


Smith & Smith

by LiberAmans214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (there is absolutely NOTHING non-platonic there), (well. Wesson technically), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Dean Winchester, But You Get It, Dean Smith - Freeform, Dean Winchester is So Whipped, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Humor, Heteronormativity, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Misunderstandings, POV Sam Winchester on Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Wesson - Freeform, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam is Dean's Intern, but not first person oh god no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: Smith is obvious enough.Obvious, with his packed lunches and secretive screensavers. Obvious, in the way he unfailingly redoes his hair before leaving, cause he’s “picking Cas up first” - and with his bright smile on Mondays, because “Cas only has Sundays off”.He grins non-stop, the half hour before lunch, and then spends it holed up in his office entirely - and if Sam returns early from his own break, he can’t not catch the unicorn laughs emerging from there, glass walls be damned.Once, in fact, a package got misdelivered, and Sam returned from lunch to a bouquet on his desk, labelled on a recycled paper card with a pickup line so ridiculous - wordplay on ‘honey’, in fact - that it almost verified the domesticity singlehandedly.Dean Smith ismarried.There can be absolutely no other explanation.
Relationships: (referenced), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 258





	Smith & Smith

There are a few things everyone knows at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc.

The coffee bagels are inedible, Adler will fake-fire someone on your first day, and you do not hit on Dean Smith, Senior VP.

(Not that Sam wants to - gross. But apparently it’s salient information, because it’s the third ever text message Gabriel Milton (HR) sends him. Maybe because he’d just joined as Smith’s intern, Sam reasons. Well, to hell with stereotypes. Smith is going to be nothing more than a boss - or mentor, if he’d so be willing; Sam’s heard of him, and he’s kind of a genius after all. That’s it.

Plus, Sam’s in love with, and engaged to a nurse thankyouverymuch.)

And in any case, it’s not like he’d needed a memo.

Smith is obvious enough.

Obvious, with his packed lunches and secretive screensavers. Obvious, in the way he unfailingly redoes his hair before leaving, cause he’s “picking Cas up first” - and with his bright smile on Mondays, because “Cas only has Sundays off”.

He grins non-stop, the half hour before lunch, and then spends it holed up in his office entirely - and if Sam returns early from his own break, he can’t not catch the unicorn laughs emerging from there, glass walls be damned.

Once, in fact, a package got misdelivered, and Sam returned from lunch to a bouquet on his desk, labelled on a recycled paper card with a pickup line so ridiculous - wordplay on ‘honey’, in fact - that it almost verified the domesticity singlehandedly.

Dean Smith is married.

There can be absolutely no other explanation.

*

As days pass, Sam’s workload increases, but he’s learning what he’s here to learn and is grateful for it.

He also notices him and Dean grow into a friendship of sorts - finding common ground in football, not liking pineapples on pizza, and having a Navy dad - and just like that, mentions of the latter’s wife start coming up more casually.

Nothing unprofessional, or overshared - just a, “you know who eats burgers like no one’s business? Cas.” When he brings Sam a couple of burgers back after an assignment runs late into his lunch break - or even a, “Cas’s brothers are dicks,” when Sam goes into his office to submit a report from Sales, and finds him, as he rarely does, texting.

As long as Dean isn’t dismissive of the work Sam puts in, and he never is, Sam’s fine with it. To be honest, it’s kind of refreshing to see a guy be a total goner for his wife. And he is - Sam can tell from his heart eyes, if not the fondness that envelopes his voice whenever he speaks of her.

It makes him happy as well, cause he’s worked here about five weeks now, and it’s enough to see that Dean deserves to be as happy as 'Cas’ makes him.

All things considered, Sam’s definitely getting used to it.

Until one friday, when Dean shows up at nine am and declares that Cas will be picking him up today.

“There’s a strike at the library.”

“I see.” Sam returns, eyebrows raised.

“Isn’t that ridiculous? Libraries going on a strike?” Dean grins. “It’s like, you know, a book-march.”

Sam fights the whelming urge to bitchface.

“Stop that.” Dean swats at the air. Sam hasn’t said anything, so he bites his cheek. “You’re basically dying to roll your eyes. Friggin’ take my jokes for granted.” Sam shakes his head, suppressing a smile. “No, seriously. Go on, do it. Didn’t stop Cas either.”

At that, Sam breaks.

Mirrors Dean’s grin from before he’d put on the mock-offended glare, and Dean soon joins in.

“I’ll just save my fantastic sense of humor for later.”

“For Cas?”

“Nah, someone who can appreciate it -” Dean cuts himself short. “Hell, who am I kidding? Yeah, for Cas.”

Sam grins wider.

“I’ll be leaving at five today.” Dean informs him, before disappearing into his office. Seeing as the office hours are nine to five in the first place, that isn’t off the norm, but since Dean finishes late almost regularly, it’s probably worth pointing out.

This way or that - Sam knows he’s going to be waiting for it to be five almost as eagerly as Dean.

He’s heard so much about this woman. There’s almost an air of mystery surrounding her at this point. All the facts Dean’s ever dropped are cloaked with something close to fictional, because Sam doesn’t know her at all.

And now he’s finally going to meet her.

It’s not like all he does, the entire day, is think about it. But it does make writing the reports for, and inputting April 2020’s data into the server that much more of a fast process - since time flies until it’s five.

And then, relatively, decides to stop.

Sam stares at the elevator.

He’s done with his day - prepared to leave after Dean does, though definitely not before.

Waiting, he realizes, that he’s formed something of a mental image. She’s blonde in his imagination - probably a generic 5'5 or 6. Blue-eyed, cause Dean’s mentioned that at least twice. And not to be creepy, but he assumes she’d be pretty too, cause his boss isn’t exactly what he’d describe ugly.

So without meaning to, Sam’s got an eye out for someone who fits the mold.

First man in, at two past five, is short and stocky. Second is Mrs. D'souza, a receptionist on the seventh floor.

Third and fourth are interns.

Fifth is a trenchcoated guy, squarer than Sam, with a wonky tie.

Sam sighs.

It’s almost ten past five - and tardiness really isn’t his thing. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Staring intently in the direction of his elevator, he’s about to start getting righteously annoyed on Dean’s behalf when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

Sam swivels in his chair, taken by surprise - and slowly, his eyes widen.

Dean’s arm is slung about the fifth guy’s shoulders, grin directed entirely towards him. And he - Jesus, he - is six feet tall, trenchcoated, and wearing a tentative smile as he looks down at Sam.

Blue eyes complete the picture - plus a five o’clock shadow which never came up - and Sam’s head reels as he finally pieces everything together.

“Dean!” He exclaims, and it must count as a greeting, because it can’t really count as oh-my-god-Cas-is-a-man.

“Hey!” Dean beams. “Figured you should meet Cas.” And turning to Cas, “That’s Sam. My prodigy, basically.”

The heart-eyes have never been more obvious. 

Sam’s an idiot.

He can’t even grin like he’s supposed to - earning himself half an eyeroll form Dean - because he’s trying to figure out how he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“It’s good to meet you, Sam.” Cas says - and the fact that it’s the lowest he’s ever heard a voice go, makes him refocus enough that he can respond.

“You too, Cas.”

Dean’s still beaming, and finally, finally caught up with himself, Sam grins back.

He’s an _idiot_.

Cas just smiles wider.

(Well, one thing he got right. He’s definitely pretty. But measured against a scale of everything else he got wrong - there’s a long way to go.)

“Okay so,” Dean declares, far more chipper than usual. Someone could just’ve painted smitten across his face, really. “We should go. You probably guessed this but Cas isn’t the biggest fan of where I work.”

“You have a treadmill desk, Dean.”

“And I don’t see you complaining about my stamina.” Dean throws back, and their eyes lock in a silent stare - heavy enough, that neither notices Sam looking away as subtly as he can. He’s not really supposed to witness them flirting - misdelivered packages asides.

Thankfully, the stare-off breaks when Cas points out that they were leaving.

And to the backdrop of Dean grumbling about Cas’s hatred for his job, Dean puts on his overcoat - well, he hands Cas his briefcase so he can properly do so, and then Cas just holds onto it - and they say their goodbyes to Sam and take off, walking close enough to brush arms all the way to the elevator.

Once they’re out of sight, Sam slumps in his chair, scrubbing his face with an incredulous laugh. 

_Of course_ Dean Smith is married. And of course, Cas is his _husband_.


End file.
